


Ghosts of the Past

by WallCrawlingHero



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:37:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2084061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallCrawlingHero/pseuds/WallCrawlingHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new Guardian awakens to join the fight, but struggles to leave his past behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Life, New Identity

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by play time with the beta. Because the game isn't out yet, and a lot of the lore is unknown, I've taken a very general view of the Guardian/Traveler story. Some things may not line-up with the in-game specifics, but I'll do my best to make it fit.

**There was a time long since past when Earth was disconnected and dominated by humans who thought they knew their place in the Universe.**

**Then the Traveler came.**

**The Traveler brought with it freedom and transformation. The entire solar system was open for exploration and colonization, and humanity thrived.**

**Then the Darkness followed.**

**The Darkness is still a mystery, but its goal was immediately apparent: to break what the Traveler had made and destroy the Light within.**

**Times became more difficult and humanity was forced back home to Earth to make a last stand from the City, built in the protective shadow of the long dormant Traveler. Emissaries, called Ghosts, issued forth from the Traveler to find those souls still possessing the Light and to call them back to the fray, no matter how long they’d been gone.**

**These souls are reborn as Guardians, and it is their duty to forge a new life in pursuit of driving away the Darkness once and for all and allowing the Light to flourish once more.**

***********

_Before: nothing. And then—_

“Wake up.”

_What?_

“Wake up, Guardian.”

_A voice?_

“Get up, Guardian, now, or it’s likely you won’t be getting up at all.”

_Pain, and then my eyes are open for the first time._

“I apologize for the shock, but we’ve got to move now. We’ve been found out. No time to ease back into life I’m afraid. Now get up and follow me!”

The guardians head is still foggy, but he understands the voice enough to know he needs to get on his feet and follow.

_On my feet? I have no memories, but this feels natural. The instincts to stand and walk and run; they’re all there._

Suddenly finding himself alive after being decidedly not-alive for so long is a strange feeling, but with his senses slowly coming back he finds it hard to focus on much more than stumbling after the voice that spoke to him from the dark.

“On the move, then? Very good. Just keep following. It will all come back to you quickly enough, or so I’ve heard.”

Shots begin to ring off the debris of long abandoned vehicles all around the Guardian and the mysterious voice.

“Let’s pick up the pace! We’ve run out of time for practice. Now it’s time for the real thing!”

The Guardian finally locates the source of the voice in a small, floating eye—

_No, not an eye. Like an eye, but mechanical. Something different._

—as it dances around his head. And just as he catches sight of it, it’s gone, flying away from him, through the outcroppings of metal and ancient derelict ships, towards a doorway in the side of a massive wall.

“This way, Guardian! They’re coming!”

And he’s running. It feels good after so much nothingness. His legs move on their own as he jumps, slides and dives around his surroundings. The shots from behind never let up, and he’s more focused on those now that he remembers what they are.

_Gunfire. Someone is shooting at me!_

A warning flashes in his brain as he feels a bullet whiz past his ear. Adrenaline floods his system and he runs faster than he thought possible. All his senses have come back and they are focused on one thing only: Making it through that door to safety.

He’s gasping for air as he sprints the final leg of the journey. His lungs burn in his chest and he jumps up the steps outside the door three at a time. As he crosses the threshold the door shutter starts to close behind him and he feels a sense of relief until it’s replaced by a sharp pain in his right shoulder. He yells once and falls forward onto his hands and knees before instinct forces him to roll left and take cover behind the wall while the door closes the rest of the way.

_I’ve been shot! I’m shot! I’m going to die! (again?) What do I do?!_

Quickly the pain eases, but it’s replaced by confusion. The floating mechanical eye-thing floats away from the door controls to hover in front of him. He tries out his voice for the first time.

“I… was shot?” He’s still unsure how well his thoughts are translating to speech.

“You were, but only once. You’re OK now.”

“How?”

“When I revived you I was able to construct basic combat clothing and a shield system for you out of the nearby material. It won’t do much but it’s better than running around naked.”

The Guardian feels around to where he was hit, but can’t find a wound. It’s tender, and a bruise is already forming, but there is no hole and no blood. He looks up at the floating voice, still confused.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Guardian. You’ve been dead a long time. I am a Ghost, your Ghost, and I have much to show you.”

 

***********  

 

The door in the wall isn’t quite as secure as the Guardian or Ghost had hoped. Within seconds their pursuers are pounding against it and bending the security shutter in, and they both realize it won’t be long before it gives way completely.

“It looks like we’re not out of the woods yet, I’m afraid. The explanations will have to wait until we’re safely on our way back to The City.”

The Guardian jumps to his feet, ready to run as the Ghost turns to face down the tunnel leading away from the door. A light shines brightly from it and the Guardian follows closely behind.

“My scanners are showing something up ahead that may be useful. There, in the corner.”

The Ghost’s light falls on a crumpled form lying along the right-hand wall of the tunnel. Clutched in its grip is a long metal object.

_A gun?_

Thoughts begin to fill the Guardian’s head, not memories exactly, but an understanding of what he’s found.

_A gun. A rifle. Semi-automatic. Short burst fire. High damage. Common ammunition. Danger. Safety._

He pulls the gun away with some difficulty from the stiff fingers of the lifeless body, and when he does one of the hands falls on his arm. He looks down for second wondering what happened and why he’s even here.

_Is this someone like me, brought back from the dead, but cut down before they understood why?_

That won’t happen to him, the Guardian decides. He won’t lie back down until he knows what’s happened to him. He stands up and he and the Ghost—

_My Ghost?_

—continue down the tunnel in the dark.

***********

 

It’s not long before they find whatever it is the Ghost is searching for. Through a doorway up ahead the Guardian can see daylight and the Ghost tells him that’s where they’re headed.

“There should be a ship in there. It may not be in great condition, but it should get us back to the Tower at least. That’s the only thing we need to worry about.”

The thought of the Tower gives the Guardian hope. He’s not sure what it is, but his subconscious is telling him it means safety. He starts to run toward the door.

He’s fifty yards from the opening.

Now thirty.

Now twenty.

Now ten.

“Wait! Guardian, stop!”

His Ghost’s voice brings him up short.

“There’s something in there. Something not too friendly I think.”

Carefully the Guardian creeps up to the doorway, making use of old rusted crates and barrels for cover. He’s leaning against the wall to the left of the door and slowly crouches down and peeks his head around the corner. There on the far side, is a beaten-up junk heap of a ship, just like his Ghost said there would be. He can’t tell what this place is, but it used to be a large enclosed room. There’s a hole in the roof, probably from where the ship crashed through. Now it’s overgrown with vegetation and strewn about with old junk, just like everything else he’s seen.

His eyes sweep from side to side, but he doesn’t immediately see a threat. The room is about a hundred yards long and maybe fifty across to the ship and he doesn’t detect any movement anywhere. Then, suddenly he sees it.

_A flash? Scope!_

His muscles contract and he throws himself backward behind the wall again as a crack splits the air and the edge of the doorframe turns to a spray of rock and dust right where his head was a moment before.

“That was a close one Guardian.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“It looks like a sniper; probably a Fallen Captain. This is their territory after all.”

_Fallen?_

He feels something pulling at his memory.

“They rarely travel alone. It’s hard to get a good read, but I would guess there are no fewer than four other Fallen in there with their Captain.”

A horrible garbled scream rings out in the area beyond.

“No time to strategize, I’m afraid. It sounds like the fight’s coming to you!”

In an instant the Guardian is on his feet and checking his weapon.

_Stock feels solid. Sight is cracked, but usable. Barrel is clear. Magazine’s full. No safety. Round in the chamber. Ready to go._

Once he hears yells and footsteps approaching the door, the Guardian takes three quick breaths and leans out into the open. He sees three ghastly creatures rushing him in makeshift armor swinging knives and pointing handguns in his direction, and before he has time to register his actions the Guardian squeezes the trigger. Three short bursts follow and the first two Fallen collapse in mid stride, one with a hole in its side, the other missing its head. The third is leaping over their bodies hoping to take him by surprise with a dagger aimed at his throat. The Guardian side steps the clumsy attack and catches the knife hand, turning the blade back on his attacker to sink it into its exposed rib cage.

The Fallen is still alive, but in pain as the Guardian moves through the door, pushing it along in front like a shield. The Guardian feels several small impacts ripple through his shield and it goes limp. He tosses the body aside, but keeps the knife and cuts a course straight for the next Fallen he sees. It looks understandably surprised as the Guardian runs straight toward its hiding place behind an old shipping container. The Fallen squeezes the trigger, but too late as the Guardian vaults over its panicked shot and sinks the dagger down into its horned skull. This one looks more imposing than the three from before, but it’s not the Captain. He’s still out there waiting for the Guardian to show himself again.

His best chance, he decides, is to create a distraction. He pulls the knife from the skull of the Fallen and slips it into his belt. Then he picks up the limp body and shoves it out from behind the container. A shot rings out and the Fallen’s head explodes.

_Now I know where the shot came from, and if I’m lucky I’ll have a second before he’s ready to shoot again._

The Guardian steps out around the other side of the container before the body hits the ground and spots the sniper, high up on a walkway near the ship. The Fallen Captain sees the Guardian and swings around to take aim, but too late. The Guardian’s weapon is at his shoulder, eye to the sight and he calmly squeezes the trigger.

Once: There’s a flash. The Captain staggers back.

_He’s got a shield._

Twice: Another flash with the crackle of an electronic discharge.

_Shield’s down._

Three times: All three rounds from the last burst find their target and the Captain is down. It’s a good thing too, because The Guardian’s own rifle is empty now.

His Ghost appears from out of nowhere. “Now THAT was an impressive show, Guardian!”

“Thanks, I guess. It’s almost like it happened automatically.”

“That’s to be expected. There is a lot about the reanimation process that even I don’t understand, but you’ve been brought back to fight, so a little combat-readiness comes with the package.”

The Guardian makes his way to a ladder on the far side of the room and climbs up to where the Fallen Captain lies dead. He picks up the sniper rifle and looks it over.

“I don’t mean to rush you, Guardian, but I don’t think we’ll be alone much longer and the group following us was much bigger than the one you just handled.”

The Ghost is right. He can hear voices and footfalls coming down the tunnel following after them. The group from outside has almost caught up.

“This ship is a little worse for the wear, but it should do the trick. If you’ll just climb aboard I’ll do the rest.”

“Yeah, sure.” The Guardian climbs into the hatch that opened in the side of the ship. Once inside he settles into the pilot seat and watches the Ghost activate the control panel. The Guardian hesitates for a second, then asks his question. “Listen, you seem to know an awful lot about me and what’s happening here. Can you tell me something?”

“I’ll provide you any information I have, of course.” His Ghost continues to power up the ship’s systems.

“What’s my name?”

His Ghost hovers silently over the control panel for a moment.

_He seems unsure._

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Guardian. Your past is largely lost to me. I only know you are the one I was meant to find. I suppose your name is your choice. New life, new identity.”

The Guardian reaches up and removes the helmet his Ghost had formed for him out of the extra material around his long decayed body. He holds it out in front of him, examining it as if he might find the answers within.

_New life, new identity? Maybe. Maybe…_

He catches his own reflection in his visor. He suddenly realizes he has no idea what he looks like. He can’t remember his own face. He studies the pale blue skin, the glowing white eyes, the dark marks across his brow. His hair hasn’t grown in yet and his head is smooth and round. His face is square and his features are heavy.

_This is my face?_

He sees a flash in his mind’s eye, like something trying to break the surface. He sees another face, not his own, but similar, with darker skin, pale blue eyes and heavier markings. Short green hair frames her face as she says…

_Aurich…_

Just as quickly the face is gone leaving behind only the name.

“My name is Aurich.”

His Ghost turns toward him from where it had resumed activating the controls. “Aurich? Yes, I think it suits you. Well, Aurich, let’s see if this is our lucky day.” His Ghost turns back to the controls and through the front window Aurich sees their Fallen pursuers burst into the room as the ground begins to drift away, slowly at first and then quicker as they gain altitude and turn toward the sky.

“Excellent!” his Ghost exclaims. “Next stop: The Tower!”


	2. With Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurich reaches the Tower, chooses a class and learns about his place in the new world.

The flight back to the Tower didn’t take long, but Aurich’s Ghost filled him in on as much of the Guardians’ story as he could. Aurich learned about the Traveler’s appearance, the Darkness and the founding of the City. He learned about his purpose is as a Guardian, the various classes and ranks, and about some of the tools at his disposal.

 

“You will have to report to one of the Vanguards once we reach the Tower, depending on which class you align yourself with,” Aurich’s Ghost explains as they approach the City.

“You seem to know an awful lot about me based on my scans; I sort of assumed you would tell me where to go.” Aurich is staring fixedly out at the skyline in the dusk. Lights are beginning to blink on as the sun sets.

“Well, it’s true I can give you suggestions and help you make the decision, but ultimately it’s your choice.”

“OK, then make a suggestion. Where do you think I belong?”

His Ghost hums softly for a moment. “Firstly, I think Warlock would be a poor choice for you. I don’t sense the command of the Traveler’s energies that is usually associated with the Warlock class.”

“Really?” Aurich is only half-listening. He stares with wonder while the city passes quickly below him.

“Really. As for Titan… yes, I could see that. You can clearly handle yourself in a fight, and that’s what Titans are all about. But…” his Ghost hums quietly again.

Aurich’s attention is pulled away from the City. “But…?”

His Ghost refocuses, “But for you I think Hunter might be more fitting. You have an inquisitive mind, a sharp eye and you’re handy with a blade. I sense more of an explorer’s spirit in you, rather than a warrior.”

Aurich turns back to the window and the swiftly approaching Tower, lost in thought for a moment.

_An explorer? Maybe. I do have so many questions._

He turns back to his Ghost. “One more thing.”

“Of course, anything you ask, Guardian.”

“Do you have a name?”

His Ghost seems taken aback, if it’s even possible for a floating mechanical eye to be surprised. “I… well, no. Why would I?”

“If you don’t have a name what should I call you?”

“Ghost, I suppose.”

“Don’t all Guardians have their own Ghost?” The ship is almost docked at the top of the Tower.

“Yes.”

“If they are all called Ghost how can I tell you from them?”

His Ghost seems confused again. “Well, I’m _your_ Ghost, so—“

“No, that won’t do. Are you a mindless machine? I don’t think so. You have a voice and a personality. You need a name.” The ship is connected now to the docking station and the hatch in the side opens onto a gangplank.

“If you would like to give me a designation, that’s perfectly—“

“No, not a designation. A name. And I want you to choose one for yourself.”

His Ghost floats idly above the console. “I’m not really sure what to say.”

Aurich stands up from his seat. “You don’t have to say anything. Just think about it and let me know when you decide.”

“Very well, Guardian. Aurich.” He isn’t sure, but Aurich thinks he can hear a smile in his Ghost’s voice.

 

***********

Aurich steps out of his ship and into a crowd of activity. All around him are Guardians with all manner of armor and weapons, carrying on conversations with one another, haggling with vendors or rushing from one place to the next. The courtyard of the Tower is a stark contrast to the barren wasteland he just left. Everything is bright and clean; banners flap in the wind, grass covers the ground in places and two large trees flank an entrance on the far side of the shops. Although his Ghost told him what to expect it’s a lot to take in at first glance.

_How can a place so beautiful exist in a world so full of neglect, decay and fear?_

No sooner has he stepped off the gangplank and onto the loading deck of the tower than his ship undocks and flies away. His Ghost must have seen the look of surprise on his face.

“Don’t worry; it’s only gone off to be serviced. I put in the request while we were en route. The Tower shipmasters will have it in top shape when we’re ready to go back out.”

His Ghost’s words fall on deaf ears when Aurich sees the view uncovered by his departing ship. It’s breathtaking and overwhelming. There before him is the City laid out in rows and dotted with burning lights, and floating silently above it like a moon pulled too close to the Earth—

_The Traveler…_

“It’s quite a sight isn’t it?” His Ghost floats next to his shoulder and looks back out over the city. “It never gets old.”

“I bet not,” Aurich replies, and indeed it seems like many Guardians feel the same because he notices more than a few standing at the railing simply looking out at the City and the Traveler.

“Come on, Aurich. It’s time for you to meet your new boss of sorts. I’ve already sent word. Hunter Vanguard Cayde-6 is eager to meet you.”

Aurich follows his Ghost through the crowds of Guardians, up several small sets of steps and past the trees to a large set of stairs leading down into the tower.

“In here is where the Vanguards meet to plan their attacks and consult with one another. Cayde-6 is the Vanguard for the Hunters. He’ll give you assignments, housing, and hopefully some new clothes.”

Aurich follows his Ghost to the bottom of the stairs and then to an immense room with a long table down the center. The far wall is one giant window out of which Aurich can see the peaks of a snow covered mountain range disappearing into the hazy distance. There are people scattered around the room going about their business and no one pays Aurich any mind. The feeling of the room is much more subdued than that of the courtyard.

Standing at the table are three impressive looking Guardians arguing heatedly and gesturing at several maps strewn about. Aurich isn’t sure who Cayde-6 is, and he doesn’t want to interrupt the discussion, but his Ghost flies toward the table leaving Aurich standing in the entrance. It floats up to a tall figure in dark leather armor and a long black and red cloak. After a moment the figure turns and motions for Aurich to join him and Aurich can see that Cayde-6 is a robot.

_No, not a robot. An Exo. Not mindless machines, but people. Made of metal, but with hearts and minds and souls. Do Exos have souls?_

Cayde-6 has a gleaming blue face with bright blue eyes to match and a horn sticking out from his forehead that the front of his hood rests on. The idea of his Vanguard being a machine is still odd, but Aurich tries to remember that to everyone here an Exo Guardian is just another Guardian.

“Welcome, Guardian!” Cayde-6 seems genuinely delighted to meet Aurich and reaches out to shake his hand. “Your Ghost tells me you’ve chosen the name Aurich. I like it, it suits you.”

“Thank you, sir.” Aurich is unsure exactly what is expected of him at this meeting.

“Please, we’re both Guardians. Call me Cayde-6, or simply Cayde as most organics seem to prefer.”

“Thank you, Cayde.”

“Now, your Ghost has also told me it suggested you become a Hunter after you requested it make an assessment, but ultimately the choice was yours.”

“That’s true.”

”In that case you made the right choice! Just between us Warlocks are a little weird and most Titans can’t form more than two thoughts at the same time, and most of the time those two thoughts are ‘shoot’ and ‘punch.’” Cayde-6 laughs, which seems odd to Aurich, but it helps put him at ease and he can’t help but laugh along with him. “I’m just kidding… mostly. Really, though, it takes a special kind of Guardian to be a Hunter. We’re the ones out in the dirt, digging up leads, scouting locations and troop movements. We’re the explorers that seek out the long buried secrets that will someday turn the tide of this war. Hunters are usually loners by nature, but being anti-social isn’t a requirement. A light step and an inquisitive mind are what really make the best Hunters, though a steady hand and quick trigger finger help a lot. So, what do you think?”

Aurich drops his eyes to the maps on the table, and then over to the other Vanguards still arguing, not really focusing on any of it.

_I do have questions and exploring this world might help me answer them._

Aurich looks back up at Cayde-6 and replies with a smile, “I think that sounds just fine.”

“Alright then, let’s get you set up!”

 

***********

 

For the next several minutes Cayde-6 overloaded Aurich with information about everything from housing arrangements, to missions, to weapons and armor outfitters and anything else he could think of. More than once his Ghost spoke in his ear to assure him that it would remind him of anything they discussed and not to worry about remembering it all. At the end of it Aurich left with a head full of jumbled information and a promise that new armor and weapons would be left for him in his residence in the Tower.

 

“Would you like to go to your residence now?” Aurich’s Ghost asks as they climbed the stairs back to the courtyard.

Aurich opens his mouth to answer when he hears something at the nearby Gunsmith stall that brings him up short.

“What is that supposed to mean?!” A woman’s voice shouts over the din of the other Guardians in the courtyard. “I earned it! Pried it from the dead hands of a Fallen Captain! If that doesn’t entitle me to this weapon then I don’t know what does!”

Aurich starts walking toward the commotion. A few Guardians are looking in the direction of the shouting, but most of them try to ignore it. As he gets closer Aurich can see it’s another Guardian—human, with short red hair and smaller than him, but who looks capable of handling herself in a fight. She’s wearing impressive red armor, much thicker and obviously nicer than what Aurich’s Ghost was able to fashion for him. As he gets closer he suddenly feels self-conscious over his own appearance.

“Look, I’m sorry, but rules are rules, you know that.” The vendor that the Guardian is arguing with tries to placate her, but it doesn’t seem to do much good. “Every Guardian has to earn their levels, and every weapon is locked to different levels. You haven’t run enough missions to use this one yet. I can’t unlock it for you, but I will fix it up and hold onto it for you until you’ve earned the required levels.”

“But. I. Earned. It.” The Guardian’s voice sinks dangerously low and she leans in, pushing the words through gritted teeth. The vendor just looks exasperated. Suddenly another Human Guardian—tall, handsome and solidly built—steps up next to the counter and speaks to the woman.

“C’mon, Lyssa, give the guy a break. You know the rules.”

She doesn’t look up, but continues to stare at the vendor. “Back off, Seth.”

“Lyssa, really, you’re making a scene.” By now a few more Guardians had dropped their pretenses and were openly watching the exchange. “Come on, let me take you for a cup of tea or something.” Seth puts his hand on Lyssa’s shoulder and instantly regrets it.

Lyssa reaches up, grabs his thumb with her left hand and steps behind him, pulling his hand back while twisting his wrist. With her right hand she shoves his shoulder down forcing his face into the counter by lifting his hand up and keeping on the pressure. Her voice comes out quiet and even. “I told you I can handle it, Seth.” Then looking at the vendor: “Fine, it’s a rule. A stupid rule, but a rule nonetheless. I’ll get those levels and that gun better be here waiting for me when I get back.” With that she lets go of Seth who immediately sinks to the ground and grabs his shoulder.

Lyssa looks down with a strange mix of regret and pride and offers Seth a hand up. “Sorry about the shoulder. Rain check on the tea?” Before he can answer she turns away and walks through the small crowd of Guardians that had gathered. As she heads toward the elevators that lead to other parts of the Tower she locks eyes with Aurich briefly and only breaks contact a few seconds later when he doesn’t look away first.

“What was that about?” Aurich asks his Ghost as he stares after Lyssa.

“I don’t know the specifics,” his Ghost started, “But I can guess the general nature of the disagreement. Guardians are assigned ranks, or levels based on number of missions completed, number of kills, etc. and in an effort to ensure safety and maintain a steady inventory as well as promote competition and provide motivation most weapons and armor pieces are locked to a certain ranking. I would guess that she recovered a weapon while on a mission, her Ghost scanned it and the Tower databases determined the pre-assigned rank was higher than what she was allowed to use. She’ll have to put in some more work before she can come back and claim the weapon.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair.”

“Maybe not, but the system is in place to ensure that Guardians are properly trained to handle these weapons before being let loose with them. It also prevents Guardians from merely finding ways to purchase the best weapons and armor without earning the right to wield them.”

“Would that really happen?”

“Oh yes, and it has, before this system was put in place. It’s not a perfect solution, but it helps ensure that everyone pulls their weight. That way you know the Guardians with the best gear are the Guardians who put in the most work.”

_I thought we were supposed to take on the role of the Guardians out of a sense of pride and duty. If some are willing to shirk that responsibility, why were they chosen in the first place?_

“Aurich?” his Ghost asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I think I’ve chosen a name.”

Aurich smiled. “And what name have you chosen?”

“Honor. You may call me Honor.”

“I like it.”

“Thank you, so do I. Would you like to go to your quarters now?”

“Yeah, I would, Honor. Show me the way.”


End file.
